


Safe Haven (I think I'm Lost)

by polotiz



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Could Be Canon, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Nightmares, Sara Lance Needs a Hug, Sara Lance/Ava Sharpe-centric, Soft Ava Sharpe, Soft Sara Lance, possible mentions of torture, post s5 finale, protective Ava Sharpe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:13:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28353738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/polotiz/pseuds/polotiz
Summary: After a year of non-stop searching, Sara Lance returns home.Starting as a one-shot, this fic has turned into a series of potential scenes dedicated to the eventual reunion of Sara and Ava. Agony, ecstasy, hurt and healing.And of course, a love greater than all.
Relationships: Sara Lance/Ava Sharpe
Comments: 57
Kudos: 141





	1. Damnato

**Author's Note:**

> So... this started as a way to get the muse kick started again after a long writing hiatus and has since morphed into something.. a little bigger. 
> 
> And now it’s my canon until the S6 premiere where it all flies out the window but at least I’ll stay sane(ish) until then!
> 
> Tx

_Slap… Slap… Slap…_

The sound of the water swirling around the pontoons isn’t soothing, not this time. It’s a jackhammer richocheting between her ears. It’s carving out her insides… the drum-beat of her failure.

And the halyards of the sailing boats crowded around the tiny harbour, beating softly at their masts in the winter breeze, feel no longer like the soothing chimes of months ago and more like impatient fingers, tapping out their judgement.

Ava draws in a breath, air cold enough to burn as it fills her lungs, and hangs her head. She ignores the wisps of hair flitting around her temple, escaping the tight bun that had returned to her aesthetic in the last few months.

Ahead of her the sun lowers into an auburn sky.

It feels like it’s been a lifetime.

Then again, Ava’s only been convinced of her own existence for the last… three, maybe four years, so who’s to say it isn’t closer to one?

She opens her eyes to the shimmering of the water below her, ignoring the burn of tears at her cheeks.

She’s a coward.

She should be back on the waverider, celebrating. She should be with the team. She should be with-

But she wasn’t. Isn’t.

Couldn’t.

The evening tide surges against the dock, and Ava can’t help but shiver at how similar it sounds to the transporter beacon that materialised out of nowhere onto the bridge-

- _she_ had stepped through, so effortlessly, as if they hadn’t spent the best part of a year searching for a sign. Any sign. As if no time had passed, at all.

As if after all this time, Ava’s heart hadn’t already been shattered beyond hope… beyond repair.

She stares down at her feet, dangling above the water and they feel as heavy and useless to her now as they did fused to the floor of the waverider.

_‘Mama’s home!’_

Ava can’t help but gasp at the memory; a hot skewer through her chest that is so visceral it bunches her shoulders forward, over the water. God, there wasn’t a cadence of that voice that wasn’t programmed into Ava’s very being… that didn’t shoot fire into every one of her limbs. Even on the other side of the room, a good several feet from anyone else, Ava’s eyes had found her as if she were a beacon of safety in a raging storm.

As if _Ava_ was the one who needed _goddamned_ rescuing, and not-

Gritting her teeth she shakes her head sharply, unable to dislodge the image of Sara’s clothes settling more loosely around her frame, and the absence of colour to Sara’s cheeks casting telling shadows beneath her eyes. The way she had stepped forward, and Ava had seen the way she favoured her right side, all minute differences, all tiny things that any ordinary person wouldn’t have noticed.... But they were far from ordinary, to each other.

At least, they had been.

Until Sara had been taken and Ava…

Ava hadn’t found her.

But Sara Lance, in perfect _Sara Lance_ style…. Came home anyway.

…No thanks to them all.

…No thanks to _her_. The one person who should have-

The cold of the dock has already seeped through her gloves, and Ava finds herself pressing the pads of her fingers through the fleece and into the old wood as if to challenge them into numbness.

Oh, how she wishes she could reclaim numbness.

She had stood in silence and waited for the relief. She had waited for it and willed it as euphoria swept through the rest of the team, as they took turns with beaming smiles to pull Sara into all manner of awkward embraces on embraces…. Even Mick had taken the opportunity; inserting himself between her and Lita... proud Dad. Proud... just... proud.

…And all the while Ava stayed in the background, fingers tangled awkwardly together in front of her, her eyes travelling the length of Sara’s body.

Convincing herself Sara was alive. Sara was whole. Sara was _here_.

And Ava had waited, quietly.

Until Zari, one arm still loosely flung across Sara’s shoulders, turned in Ava’s direction, cleared her throat, eyebrows raised, and stepped away.

And Sara had finally… _finally_ looked at her.

And all the imagining, the wishing, the _aching_ came crashing down on Ava, one giant tsunami of emotion she had barely been able to survive the first time, threatening to drown her. Threatening to choke the very air from her lungs.

So she had done the only thing she knew how to do. What either three, maybe four years of living, or possibly centuries of pre-programming compelled her to do.

She fled.


	2. Inventum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laying in the silence, waiting for the sirens
> 
> Signs, any signs I’m alive still
> 
> I don’t wanna lose it
> 
> \-- James Arthur

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo.... when I had what felt like an endless spiral of writers block, a handful of heroes helped to pull me out.
> 
> To my discord writers support family, Kel, LaceALotz, LucyInTheSky, CaptainLancelot, THANK YOU. The fact there's another chapter is honestly only thanks to your words of encouragement and in some cases kicks to my ass (I take both in equal measures).
> 
> No idea how this is going to turn out, but I really wanted to show an option, and there are still a couple of chapters to go...
> 
> Tx

Sara remembers returning from the League.

The moment, a night early in November, she stepped off the greyhound and her shoe met the pavement for the first time… in so many years it was as good as a lifetime.

Two lifetimes.

Two lives.

Both lost.

She remembers the look on the bus driver’s face as she stepped away, hefting that black canvas duffle bag onto her shoulder, peering into both directions of equal night. She remembers the hiss of the doors as they closed, the rumble of the diesel engine as it drove away, leaving her alone on a neighbourhood footpath that no longer felt familiar to her.

And in just enough time as it took her to find her place on the streets and between the orange light spilling onto cracked bitumen from aged lamp-posts, she died.

Sara remembers the cold, lonely seconds as she fell from the rooftop.

She will never forget.

There are moments… when she can feel it still.

Stepping onto the waverider is as surreal as the moment she stepped off the bus, all those years ago. There was no welcoming party for her then, and the existence of one now is something already to adjust to. Her body is as tired and aching as it was that moment, her soul as lost.

She accepts their affection with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. Braces her body for the pressure it’s not ready to take.

It’s been a year. John is… warmer, Zari softer. Behrard more mellow, if that were even possible. Astra wears something close to a smile. Lita’s taller, Mick more confident in her presence. Nate – Nate is… still Nate.

And Ava-

“Sara-“

Sara shifts her gaze from the empty space where Ava had been standing, moments ago.

She pulls her tattered jacket around her body.

She feels cold.

A hand closes around her shoulder, a little too tightly to allow her the opportunity to contain the wince that spreads across her face.

The hand instantly withdraws.

“-you’re hurt.” 

“I’m fine.”

“Let Gideon take a look at you.”

“It’s just a few bruises, I’m okay.”

“Sara-“

“I’m _fine_ , Nate.” She snaps, and spins, readied with a glare…

…only to find a deep sadness staring back at her, at it reminds Sara of empty streets and cold pavements. Her lips part in a soft gasp and she takes a step backward.

“Nate?” Her voice is hollow, even to her own ears. “Is she alright? What happened?”

Nate lowers his head. “We all lost our way a little bit without you.”

Sara remembers walking the streets of her old neighbourhood for hours, looking for familiarity and finding none, even though the same house had the same tattered awning from a decade ago.. even though the old rusty dodge with three wheels still sat idle on the same wilding front lawn of the house without windows.

She remembers… and she knows.

And still-

Sara nods wordlessly, her focus drifting back to the corridor Ava left through.

“She doesn’t want to see me?” She asks, finally. Pressure settles around her shoulders. Ages of hurt settles in her bones. The flicker of warmth in her heart dims, for just a moment.

She’s cold.

She’s-

“I think…” Nate says, glancing up in time to catch Sara’s eye, and when he does, his sadness has strengthened into something closer to hope. “There’s nobody in the world she would want to see more.”

\-------

_Ava is almost at the dropship when the voice stops her._

_“Boston again?”_

_She closes her eyes, pressing her lips into a thin line before adjusting the thick coat around her body and turning around, coming face to face with a familiar five o’clock shadow and solemn expression that she knew would mirror her own._

_“It helps me think.” She answered._

_Nate and Ava had come to a form of… understanding over the past several months. Both burdened by loss, both having to find ways to navigate their roles as Legends while coming to terms with truths neither of them cared to admit out loud._

_Nate nods, pausing a moment before straightening, squaring his shoulders and raising his chin._

_“That contact you found.” He offers. “The algorithm. It’s a good one.”_

_The contact being… well, Spooner of course; a woman with tongue as sharp as her edges, who would have made an exceptional agent for the bureau, had she not been so convinced the technology at the heart of it was going to destroy the world._

_And the algorithm? Not even Ava knew. But Spooner had it, and Gideon wanted it, and thus one paranoid alien-chasing ‘contact’ had ended up holed up in Ray’s old room on the ship which messed in all sorts of ways with team dynamics…_

_Nate fixes Ava with a smile that has faded by the time it meets his eyes, and Ava knows he’s only said it for her. Ava allows it, rests her forearm above her head against the entrance of the drop ship before flashing him a barely-there smile in return._

_“Let’s hope so.”_

_But they both know, the word “hope” had become more a filler word than one with any genuine meaning… and in the end all that remained was a room that should have been occupied that wasn’t, and another that was occupied… but nobody really wishes was._

_“I still don’t understand why you’d choose 2001.” Nate says, after a long pause. “The 1770s were far more inspiring.”_

_Ava’s smile is genuine this time. “That’s because you think any significant historical event is inspiring.” She says. “Me? I just like the boats.”_

_Nate crosses his arms. “And the winter?” He raises an eyebrow. “You could have the boats any time in summer. You don’t have to go chasing the one warmest year on record in New England.”_

_Ava recalls those winters, on her search for the right year. One occasion she had taken the jump ship to Constitution Marina to find no less than two feet of ice had locked the very few moored boats into tiny prisons._

_“Winter is… quiet.” She says._

_Nate frowns. “Except for the boats.”_

_“Except for those, yes.”_

_“Uh huh.”_

_And Ava can’t help but roll her eyes at his obvious stalling._

_“I won’t be gone long.” She offers. It’s a redundant statement, she knows. They both know she has been gone for months… gone in any sense that mattered to whatever humanity she had left._

_But Nate straightens, shoves both hands into his pockets and rocks back on his heels once, before shrugging._

_“Good. We need you here… Captain.”_

_Ava taps the framework above her head twice before stepping back, into the jump ship._

_“See you soon.”_

\-----

Her body aches.

And she’s barely two steps through the corridor.

Leaning against the wall, arms folded and dark hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, in black ripped jeans, military combat boots, white shirt under a brown leather jacket and a scowl that would match Astra’s on a bad day in hell, stands a woman Sara hasn’t seen before.

“You must be Captain Lance.” Her voice carries an accent; South American, Sara guesses, and she looks entirely unimpressed by Sara’s return. Or anything, for that matter.

Which isn’t _exactly_ helping Sara’s mood.

Tilting her head, Sara fixes the woman with a raised eyebrow and low scowl.

“Aaand who are you?”

“The name’s Cruz.” Sara watches the stranger push herself off the wall with her shoulder, then close the distance between the two of them in unhurried strides, eyes raking Sara’s form from head to toe and back again, until she stops in front of her with mere inches to spare.

It unnerves Sara. And nobody, _nobody_ unnerves Sara Lance.

Not on her own damned ship.

“So, how did my team come across a-“ waving a hand in between them, Sara leaves the obvious question hanging with a raised eyebrow.

“-Alien expert.”

“ _Alien…_ expert.” She repeats, fully aware her mouth is moving around the words with more than a smattering of distaste. “What, is that a vocation now?”

Cruz’s eyes darken a shade. “It is, in fact.” She grates from between clenched teeth. “-and your _team_ , came across me… trying to find _you_.”

Sara nods, smiles sweetly, and pats Cruz once on the shoulder. “Well? Guess what. You did have to. I found _you._ ” Stepping around the taller woman Sara hears the indignant huff, and a tiny satisfaction eases the fatigue in her bones.

“I’m aware.” Comes the response from behind her, and Sara rolls her eyes as she continues onward, gritting her teeth to fight against her obvious limp. It hardly supported her aesthetic right now. But then again, when it came to self-assuredness, Cruz would have made her match with the Legends.

“…I’m also aware you’ve known _exactly_ where to find us… for three months now.”

She freezes mid-stride.

And Sara is still facing away from Cruz when the woman adds,

“-So… are you going to tell them, or will I?”

This time Sara spins, eyes blazing, ignoring the pain that shoots up her hip at the motion.

_How did she-?_

“You wouldn’t-“ She hisses.

Cruz tilts her head. “I provided the algorithm that was supposed to find you.” She says. “We didn’t find you.”

An infuriating smirk teases at the corners of Cruz’s lips, and Sara balls her hands into fists, resisting the urge to smack it right off the other woman’s face. Meanwhile, panic has begun to claw its way to Sara’s throat… tasting an awful lot like guilt.

“I didn’t-“ Sara catches herself before she starts stammering, grits her teeth in defiance. “-it’s not what you think.”

“I don’t care about your reasons, Lance.“ Cruz snaps. “Not like they do. Not like Sharpe will.”

_Ava._

Sara’s jaw aches with the force of keeping herself in check, but she can feel herself unravelling, and she’s nowhere near safe enough to do so.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” She growls.

Cruz advances on Sara a second time, and this time, the Captain can do little but stand numbly as the other woman closes the distance between them, finger pointed squarely between her eyes.

“…You made me look like I don’t know what I’m doing.” She says. “I assure you. I _do_ know what I’m doing.”

Shifting back on her heels, Cruz narrows her eyes, and Sara finds herself again the subject of uncomfortable scrutiny.

Until suddenly, Cruz’s eyes widen.

“Shit.” She hisses under her breath. “ _Shit._ ”

“What’s your problem?” Sara grates out.

Cruz’s entire body language changes in the next few seconds; her shoulders sag, she shakes her head, puts a good new two feet between them, and raises a hand.

“I’m sorry.” She says.

It’s the worst form of whiplash. Sara feels her nostrils flare and instantly regrets it for the shadow of pain that flits across her cheek.

“I just came back from a year in captivity.” She says.

Cruz’s hand is still raised when she answers.

“I know.”

“What’s your deal, Cruz??” Sara snaps, her whole body too tired, too sore to move more than a few inches, just enough to straighten and pull herself into the role she’s supposed to be. She narrows her eyes.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t throw you off my damned ship right now.”

Cruz lowers her hand, and her eyes, chews the inside of her cheek before answering.

“Because I also know what you had to do get here.”


	3. Salvatio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sara finds Ava

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this was the last chapter of the original story until... well... it took on a bit of a life of its own.
> 
> So... here we go...

\------

“Captain-“

Sara passes a weary palm over her face and leans back against the wall of the cargo bay.

“We will arrive at our destination in ten minutes.”

She blows out a breath and nods, closes her eyes against the onset of what feels will be a godawful headache, once she lets it.

“I can arrange for someone-“

“ _No,_ Gideon.” Sara snaps, lifting her right hand and pinching the bridge of her nose, “No, it’s fine.”

“You are injured, Captain.”

“I’m _fine_ Gideon! Jesus-“ Sara pushes herself off the wall, stalking to the other side of the space until she is feet away from the doors. “-can you not all just let it go!?’

Barely thirty minutes back as captain had already detonated everything into a proverbial smouldering wreck, lit by none other than Cruz, and culminating in Sara storming off the bridge, all but threatening the team on pain of death, to steer well clear of her.

_‘Sharpe has her own ship, and she chose to leave. She can find us in her own time.’_

_‘Ava is the Co-Captain of the waverider, we don’t leave without her.’_

_‘Huh. So the fate of humanity is at stake but sure, by all means let’s go after your girlfriend like she still gives a damn about us and we haven’t got better things to do.’_

It was the combined miracle of Sara’s physical shape, and Nate, oddly, prepared to put himself between her and Cruz that stopped the entire situation from imploding completely.

At least he had the sense to steel up before he did.

Sara blew out a loud breath from between clenched teeth, glancing up at the ceiling before closing her eyes and lowering her head again.

Maybe a punching bag wasn’t such a bad idea.

She needed… something.

She needed-

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of Sara’s neck prick and she narrows her eyes.

“You’ve either got nerves of steel or you’re just insanely stupid.” She grates out, and turns to find herself face to face with-

“Hey.”

The tension begins to ebb from Sara’s body a fraction as she takes in Lita’s smaller frame, fleece coat and jeans. She moves inside - only a handful of steps – before stopping by one of the taller crates, fingertips grazing the side.

She’s… taller now, and with a little more time to study her than the flurry of her arrival, Sara can see the coat fits her just a little bit better than it used to.

“I heard what happened.” Lita says, leaning her elbow on top of the crate and resting her cheek against a closed fist. “On the bridge that is.”

Sara rolls her eyes. Of course… there was nothing like waverider speed when it came to gossip.

“For what its worth Dad agrees with you.” She shrugs, dropping her arm. “He likes the Irish Bars in Boston.”

For a fleeting moment, Sara’s amusement is genuine.

_Some things will never change._

“So how is it? Being back?” And Sara is struck by how unperturbed Lita appears with Sara’s lack of response, until the girl raises her eyebrows in indication that this time, she does expect an answer.

Sara chews the inside of her cheek.

“It’s…” She pauses, considers the easy lie, and knows the stall itself gives her away. But before it can get any worse Sara flashes Lita her best version of a smile. “It’s nice to be home.”

Lita frowns “You look-”

“Don’t say it-“ Sara interrupts, raises a hand and drops her shoulders. “I know. But I’m fine. Alright? Or I will be, I just-“

She lets the rest of the sentence fall away as her hand lowers back to her side.

The corner of Lita’s mouth twitches upward in a reassuring smile, and she nods once, before retreating backward to the steps, where she stops just at the threshold.

“She hasn’t been the same without you, either.”

\-----

“They told me I’d find you here.”

A breath catches painfully in Ava’s chest, and she sinks her chin to it. In that moment, she feels as fragile as the ancient wooden ships tied to the dock.

Perhaps if she just… threw herself at the water. Protest her own existence.

Perhaps if she-

The shadow that appears by her side makes Ava flinch, and for barely a moment she feels guilt, before it’s washed away in time with a receding wave that circles around the barnacles collected on the piles. She fills her nostrils with frigid air, past the point where it burns her lungs, and clenches her jaw.

Guilt would assume she deserved to feel it.

Ava turns, slowly, and _her heart…_ Sara is there, pale as the evening sky, but _whole._ Her smile is thin, and hesitant, and the winter breeze lifts loose strands of hair from her cheeks.

“Sara.” Ava’s voice cracks as if with disuse, which is nonsensical given the orders she has barked over the past several days… weeks… _months_.

Her hands scrabble at the dock, and standing takes more effort than Ava would care to admit. Her legs are stiff, her lower back aches, and she swears she feels it popping as she peels herself upright from the old, wet wood.

“I’m sorry.” She says, and it bursts from her lips as clumsily as her hurried step forward, one that Sara eyes with caution, so Ava freezes. “I’m… so sorry.”

Sara turns to the water and sighs. “I always liked Boston.” She says, and Ava watches as she pulls the too-thin jacket around her body. It’s the same jacket she was wearing when she arrived. Of course… of _course_ Sara would come straight for her.

“-not so much in winter though.” 

There’s a… subtle nervousness to the way she speaks. Ava is silent, the accompanying thought of course that if she wasn’t such a catastrophic failure, they would have had that chance.

“I tried to find you.” Ava says, and the sting of it sets fire to her veins, shoots agony into her fingertips. She clenches her fists at her sides. “I… tried everything, Sara. But I failed and I’m so…-“

“Ava…”

It sounds timid, it sounds… broken. Ava _hates_ herself now more than she ever did, and her hand flies to her mouth as she attempts to process the sheer weight of… everything…

“I was gone a long time.” Is what Sara says.

“I never stopped looking.”

It’s the truth, and Ava doesn’t know, can’t identify if the pain behind her words would end in Sara’s her understanding or forgiveness for it.

“I know.” Sara’s smile turns wistful. “And that’s why you need to listen to me now.”

Ava frowns, confused.

“I don’t understand.”

Sara sighs again. “You’re not the one with something to forgive.” She says, and Ava knows, can see the winter chill cutting right through every layer of her clothing. “The algorithm you used to find me-”

“It didn’t find you.” Ava corrects her.

Sara closes her eyes, presses her lips together and looks up.

“It did.”

The wind rushes into Ava’s ears. Or perhaps it’s the water, or the sound of the boats. Or her beating heart threatening to explode from her ribcage.

“Sara, what are you saying? I-“ Ava’s brow creases, and her hands raise in front of her face as if they held the reason, the answer for her. “-I was there, we- there was nothing there.”

“There was.” Sara corrects her, softly. “I was there. I knew you were too. But I couldn’t leave.”

Sara sees the moment the truth dawns on Ava. The way her frown loosens, her forehead smooths and her spine straightens. Ava’s mouth opens, closes and opens again, and her hands lower, slowly.

“You were there.” 

Sara nods, sadly.

“You didn’t say anything-“

“I couldn’t.” She answers. “They would have found out.”

Ava steps backward, eyes wide and she sweeps across her body with one arm. “We didn’t even know if you were _alive_ , Sara!” She feels the pitch in her voice change, can hear the cracks in it but she doesn’t care. “I didn’t… I didn’t even know you were-“

“I know…” Sara takes a tentative step forward. “-and I’m so… sorry, but Ava-“

“What?” Ava fires back. “What could it have been? What could have possibly been more important than getting back to your team? To _me_?”

“An entire civilisation.”

Ava baulks.

“A _what_?” She hisses.

“A people. A planet, like ours. _That’s_ what I was trying to protect. I knew what they were planning, I knew what they had in store for me, I-“ She shook her head. “-I had to stay. To warn them, to- I’ve killed _so many_ people in my life, Ava. I was gone for so long, I missed this team… missed _you_ -“ Her voice breaks, and Ava sees the tears welling in her eyes, the way she turns her head, blinking them away. “-So much…”

“Sara, I-“

“Remember what you said, in the mattress showroom?” Sara asks her, but before Ava can respond she has stepped forward again, “You told me neither of us needs anybody.” Sara’s voice is only barely loud enough to not be drowned out by the afternoon winds, and Ava watches as her fingers twist together in front of her body. “You said, it’s okay to want things sometimes.”

Ava nods, mutely, and Sara tilts her head.

“This is why I had to tell you. Why you had to know. Because I’m hoping… I’m…" Sara pauses, and swallows. "-I'm hoping that it’s okay to _need_ things, sometimes too.” Her eyes lower to the dock beneath her battered boots. “-because… I’ve been gone so long, and I don’t think I can do this, come back….without you… and if you don’t- If you can't forgive me, I-“

_“-Sara.”_

It hits Ava like a wave, the admission, the reality. Ava closes the distance between them in no less than three strides; all guilt, all hesitation washed away, her only focus being the woman in front of her. She gathers Sara into her arms, swallows a sob as her hands map a path along the curves and ridges of a person so familiar to her she may as well be the other half of her soul.

And Ava wonders… if maybe hers could be worth saving, now.

They stand in silence for several minutes, the halyards chime out a welcome, the breeze lowers and stills, and the waves around the dock build and recede like slow, even breaths.

“You’re hurt.” Ava whispers after a long while, her lips pressed against Sara’s temple. Sara nods, wearily, then curls her fingers into the lapels of Ava’s coat and pulls, bringing their bodies closer. Ava hushes her quietly, presses another kiss to her hairline. “Gideon can't fix it?”

Sara shakes her head and burrows closer underneath Ava’s chin, ear pressed to her heartbeat.

“Medical chairs and I are… not friends.” She says, her words muffled into Ava’s chest. “Not for a little while anyway.”

_Oh._

Ava squeezes her eyes shut at the words, lifts her hand from its resting place at Sara’s shoulderblade, and gently sooths her fingers through Sara’s hair, cradling the base of her skull and swiping her thumb backward and forward. Sara rests more heavily against her, and when Ava looks down she finds her eyes closed, tears silently spilling onto the fabric of Ava’s sweater.

“Then we’ll fix you the old fashioned way.” She says, and when Sara opens her eyes and tilts her head up in silent question, it’s all Ava can do to keep her own composure as she leans down, kisses the tears still clinging to Sara’s eyelashes, left, and then right. “Just like that.” She murmurs. “And a bucketload of ice.”

Ava feels smile, the shuddered sigh pass through the woman in her arms. She tightens her hold around Sara as much as she feels she can, and releases a breath when Sara’s grip on her jacket loosens and hands slide underneath, inching around Ava’s back slowly, hesitantly, before finally coming together again at the centre of her spine. Sara’s shivering, and Ava lets go of her only long enough to pull the coat around them both, before wrapping her arms around Sara once more and pressing her nose into Sara’s hair, unable to stem her own tears. They slide down her cheeks and onto the top of Sara’s head, but Ava doesn’t care.

“I love you so much, Sara.” She whispers. “I’m so, so sorry I couldn’t find you.”

Sara sniffles, and tightens her grip around Ava, pressing her each of her fingertips into the muscles of Ava’s back; ten individual pressure points restarting the life in Ava’s body.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t come home when I needed to.” Sara’s voice is small and wobbly with emotion, and it reminds Ava of a time years ago, when Sara was scared…

…and Ava allowed her to run.

Ava only shakes her head. “Baby I’m sorry you had to go through it alone.”

She feels Sara draw in a steadying breath, and Ava reluctantly steps back out of Sara’s loosening hold as Sara does the same.

“I wasn’t.” Sara says, and reaches into her pocket, pulling out a small wooden cylinder, no more than an inch long. She holds out to Ava, pinched between her thumb, middle and forefinger.

Ava is confused at first, until realisation finally dawns and her throat closes with emotion.

“Where did you get that?” She breathes

“Our weapons closet.” Sara says, softly, “I kept it, to remind me.”

Ava nods dumbly as she stares, her heart close to bursting. Sara simply looks up at her, eyes as icy blue as the water of the Harbour.

…Or maybe it was the Harbour that reminded Ava-

-And the sounds, so close to the way they sparred.

And the cold-

“It’s not perfect…” Ava whispers the words.

“But it’s ours.” Sara says, her smile so small, and fragile. Ava watches her eyes fill with tears again. And Ava knows, she _knows_ she’s seeing every part of Sara that she would otherwise hide, when she takes Sara’s hand, folds the little memento back into her palm, leans down and brushes their lips together, an answer and a promise.

“Always.”


	4. Sano

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'I've been strong for so long  
> That I never thought how much I needed you'  
> \- Freya Ridings

It’s far past the time to have been reasonable, or healthy for them to be standing there. Despite being a fairly mild winter for Boston standards, the mercury is still no higher than 40, and Ava knows Sara’s clothing holds little in the way of protection.

But this moment was only for the two of them, before the organised chaos that would come from the team and the waverider and the _mission…_

Sara has been running so long she doesn’t know how to properly process stillness, doesn’t know how far from hope she’s fallen.

But she sinks herself into Ava’s warmth, her ear once again pressed above the steadiness of Ava’s heartbeat, as her hands map every inch of what she can reach beneath the coat that covers them both; trailing the length of Ava’s spine, curving up around her shoulders, digging softly into her lower back.

Reminding her.

Grounding her.

Sara doesn’t know exactly who she’s become. But with Ava, she knows in her soul she’s safe.

And Ava… Ava can _breathe_ again.

Each minute that stretches on, each breath she feels Sara take under her palm, loosens the tightness in Ava’s own chest, unwinding slowly like a rusty coil.

Was it possible… for someone to feel so much?

It’s only when Sara sways a little, and her hands at Ava’s back still, that Ava dares to consider the idea of letting go. She chances a glance down at Sara and finds her eyes closed, her soft breaths visible in tiny puffs of steam.

“Hey baby,” She whispers, sliding her gloved thumb across the space behind Sara’s ear, tightening her other arm around her just once before pressing another kiss to her hair. “We should get you home.”

She feels Sara’s subtle nod, the slight change in breathing pattern and shift of her hands down to the curve of Ava’s hips, but she doesn’t move beyond that, and it earns a very soft chuckle from the taller woman.

 _God_ she has missed her so much.

“I would carry you, you know.” She says.

Sara lifts her head, noses the delicate skin under Ava’s jaw, and leaves a gentle kiss to the same spot that shoots goosebumps all the way up Ava’s neck and into her hairline. Ava swallows hard, her fingers flexing at Sara’s back.

“I would let you.” Sara murmurs, resting her ear back over Ava’s now-racing heart, and Ava doesn’t need to look down to know there’s a smile pulling at Sara’s lips. It takes a beat, before Sara draws in a longer, deeper breath, and it’s a monumental effort for Ava to surpress her anger when she feels the cut of Sara’s spine, the roll of exposed ribs under her hand.

Sara leans a little heavier, and Ava finds her left arm, wrapped around Sara for warmth, is now taking more of her weight than was probably comfortable.

“The jump ship isn’t far.” Ava tells her.

“Have you been hiding, Miss Sharpe?” Sara’s words are muffled, half by the angle of her head and half by fatigue, but Ava recognises them immediately.

And she is struck with the realisation that these little moments, these memories of the two of them; the mattress, the closet, the jump ship, the touches, that Sara used… that Sara’s is using-

_‘I’m hoping that it’s okay to need things, sometimes too.’_

“…Hold on, love.” She says, tenderly. “I’ve got you.”

It’s a frighteningly easy action, lifting Sara into her arms. Ava feels Sara’s sharp intake of breath, and thinks for a fleeting moment she may have miscalculated, but then Sara settles with a shaky sigh, links her arms together around Ava’s shoulders and tucks her forehead under Ava’s chin.

Ava moves across the wharf carefully, more to take care not to jostle Sara than any physical strain on her part, and smiles when Sara’s left hand slides off her shoulder and reaches for the collar of her sweater, her icy fingers bunching the material and sliding along Ava’s skin.

“Thank you.” Ava hears Sara whisper, and Ava simply tightens her hold, kisses Sara’s forehead, noticing for the first time up close the tiny braid still wound through her hair. It’s a sobering reminder of everything Sara has fought for to hold on to the life she left.

She rounds a corner, past an old, un-used dock and the jump ship materialises into view, and it’s only when she is up the steps, safely inside and preparing to lower Sara down that she realises how loose and wobbly the woman is on her feet.

Arm still firmly around her Ava leads Sara to an empty seat, easing her into it before crouching down, and removing her gloves. Sara’s eyes have stayed closed, mostly, and Ava can see her swallow, see the strain on her features as she adjusts to the new position.

“You’re safe now, Sara.” Ava tells her, gently stroking back the hair on Sara’s forehead once before her fingertips find Sara’s cheek, her breath catching at the warmth under her skin. “We’re going to do this together.”

Wordlessly, Sara’s left hand lifts, curls around Ava’s right wrist and presses Ava’s palm more firmly down to her own cheek.

When Sara opens her eyes again, they are swimming with tears.

It breaks, and mends Ava’s heart, all in one.

“You’re going to be alright, I promise.”

And Ava does, with everything she is.

And all it takes is a flicker of a glance to her lips, a subtle lift of Sara’s chin, for Ava to know the memory Sara’s drawing on now. Ava smiles, softly, smooths the fresh tear tracks from Sara’s cheek and leans in, brushing their lips together, heads tilting, a soft slide.

_Non-verbal communication_

She pulls away, and Sara’s hand has shifted from Ava’s wrist, her fingers tangling with Ava’s where they still lay against her skin.

“-Off to a good start.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well clearly, I wasn't done with vulnerable!Sara  
> This may just be turning into a thing...


	5. Virtus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just Breathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to everyone still continuing on this journey with me :) I honestly didn't expect it to be more than 1 chapter let alone 5... and counting... you guys are my inspiration  
> Tx

_She’s staring at blackness._

_Her limbs are locked, frozen in place. She can feel the resistance at her ankles, knees, across her chest, her head._

_No chance of escape._

_No chance of anything._

_Metal scrapes against metal and she’s propelled forward, pinpricks of light spinning around her in all directions._

_A crushing pressure builds in her lungs, stealing her breath… her sound._

_All sound._

_The cold is absolute_

_‘Sara?’_

_Her whole body shakes with the force of holding itself together in the vacuum._

_She’s spinning, and spinning, she can see her veins sapphire blue in the darkness, she can’t breathe._

_‘Sara… come on baby wake up.’_

_She can’t **breathe**_

_‘Sara I’m right here,_

_She’s dying._

_She’s-_

A sudden, blinding light fills Sara’s vision and she gasps, tearing at the bindings holding her in place. There’s a muffled thump to her right, the air she pulls into her lungs makes her wheeze with the force of it.

Sara launches herself forward, and her eyes regain focus only in enough time for her to brace herself to fall-

Arms wrap around her from behind, spinning her around mid-air so that when she lands, it’s soft, and the impact on her body is only enough for a dull ache to worm its way up her side. An audible ‘oof’ skitters past her right ear and Sara blinks once, twice, her hands scrabbling at the ones grasped across her middle, gripping them with intent to throw them off, but they release her almost immediately.

A soft voice sounds from over her left shoulder.

“Sara _wait_.”

Chest still heaving, Sara blinks again, trying to pull the tattered shreds of recollection together into some form of useful situational awareness.

“It’s only me.” Comes the voice again, and it begins to take shape in Sara’s mind more solidly, and a warm hand slides its way from the base of her neck, down her left arm. “That’s it. You’re alright.”

_The voice, it sounds like-_

“Ava?” Sara’s lips and mouth feel impossibly dry, and sound comes out as a hoarse croak.

“It’s me.” There’s a soft, reassuring pressure to Sara’s forearm, which releases in time for Sara to turn her head, only a fraction, putting her in the immediate line of sight of the control panel and the familiar seats and-

_Jumpship._

Sara blinks.

_Boston_

“I’ve got you.”

_Ava_

“You’re safe.”

\----

Ava and the team had agreed, for the sake of the timeline it would be better if the jump ship _didn’t_ dock with the waverider thirty yards from a late Sunday afternoon in downtown Boston, but if Ava was honest, having Sara to herself for a half hour longer was not unwelcome news when Gideon picked a slightly more obscure rendezvous location, further into the temporal zone in order to _increase safety_.

Ava had a strong suspicion she owed Gideon one, for that.

She was barely piloting, glancing over her shoulder every opportunity she had; ensuring Sara was settled, Sara was stable. Sara was comfortable… breathing… alive.

The seventh or eighth checkup (or was it more?) Ava had made, some ten minutes into the trip found Sara asleep – or passed out, Ava wasn’t precisely sure – her head lolled to one side, cheek resting against the over-shoulder frame that kept passengers in their place. Even if it was jammed into the overly compact seat of a jump ship, Ava allowed herself a moment of relief that Sara had the opportunity to rest.

Until they had docked, that is, and Ava had come face to face with the _type_ of rest Sara was getting.

And Ava had spent too many nights tangled in Sara’s sweaty sheets, chasing demons of all persuasions – both real and imagined – not to know precisely how the next several minutes were going to play out.

It took a very specific set of reflexes Ava wasn’t sure she still possessed, to put herself between Sara and the door. Her coccyx aches with the barrelling force of a former-assassin attacking a shadow, but at least now Sara’s pressed safely against the side wall of the drop ship, braced on her elbows as she vomits, repeatedly onto the checkerplate floor.

Ava smooths her palm gently up and down Sara’s spine, attempting to drown out the sounds of retching with calmly-placed touch and strings of gentle verbal reassurances. She’s not historically had the best stomach for these situations herself, but it was going to take a hell of a lot more than second-hand nausea to keep her from exactly where she was.

“M’sorry.” Sara mumbles, spits, then takes two small sips from the bottle of water Ava had found for her. She braces herself, pitches backward before landing with a soft _thud_ against the wall. Ava watches her shakily wipe her forearm across her mouth, drop her forehead to her knees for a moment, before rolling it to the right, looking at Ava with an apologetic shrug. “Not exactly the homecoming you imagined huh.” She murmurs.

“Hey, no..” Ava fixes a reassuring smile to her face, even as her chest aches at the pallor of Sara’s skin, the way her hair is now plastered to her cheeks with the exertion. Ava shifts her body so it lines up with Sara’s new position, slides her fingers into Sara’s hair, massaging softly until Sara’s eyes have closed and a low breath eases out from between her lips. “I had a puke party planned and everything. We made commemorative buckets. You just beat me to it.”

Eyes still closed Sara huffs out a small laugh, and Ava finds herself on the receiving end of a genuine, _Sara Lance_ half-smile.

Ava catalogues it as a tiny win.

“You want a shower?” She asks, softly. Sara cracks open one eye, and Ava bites down on her lower lip. “I’m pretty sure I can beat back the masses for at least half an hour. Or longer-“ Ava pauses, smooths her hand down the back of Sara’s hair. “-however long you need.”

Sara watches Ava’s face for several moments, then takes in a long breath through her nose, and unfolds her body, letting her head fall back against the wall, eyes closing again.

“Yeah.” She answers, finally. “Yeah.”

Ava nods, reaches for where Sara’s left hand has dropped beside her hip, linking their pinky fingers together.

“Gideon-“ She says, “-Can you let Nate known I need him to keep an eye on everyone for the next 24 hours?”

“Yes, Captain Sharpe.” Gideon answers. Sara doesn’t open her eyes, but Ava feels a gentle squeeze to her finger at the name. “Are there any specific instructions you would like me to relay to him?”

Ava rolls her eyes. “Just… keep everyone out of trouble for a day.”

“Understood, Captain Sharpe.”

“Also-“ Ava pauses, wincing. “-If you could ask-“ She trails off.

“The jump ship?" Gideon offers.

Sara opens her eyes at that, and raises an eyebrow in Ava’s direction.

Ava shrugs at her.

“Tell him I owe him.”

\-----

Sara stares into the mirror, her hands braced either side of the vanity.

She wonders, which version of the stranger stares back at her.

Remnants of the toothpaste she had vigorously used to wash out the taste of bile have begun to crust at the corners of her mouth, and Sara can’t decide if they make her reflection appear more dishevelled, or rabid.

The woman opposite her offers no more answers, so Sara eases open the faucet, allows the cold water to pool in the cup of her hand and bends down, splashing it around her mouth, before filling it a second time and scrubbing down her face.

Sara straightens… watches the beads of moisture slide down her temple, curve in at her jawline and drop into the sink.

She tilts her head and studies the shadows beneath her eyes, the yellowing remnants of a bruise that ends by her ear.

Is this closer to how she looked after the Lazarus Pit? Or the League?

Lifting her right hand, she trails her fingertips down the same path as the water had, pressing into her cheeks hard enough to leave white lines in her skin.

She repeats the action again, on both sides of her face, until her cheeks begin to pink.

She drops her hands and sighs.

 _Almost human._ She thinks to herself.

She peels off her clothes one by one, until they are all laying in a crumpled heap in the corner of the bathroom.

The shower spray is scalding hot, stings the entire surface of her body, and she opens her eyes to follow the rivulets of water that gather between her breasts, diverge out down her abdomen, the plane of her lower belly and into the thatch of hair between her legs, tributaries of angry red lines on her skin.

For the first time in possibly… no - for the first time… Sara inspects the purple scar that runs from just above her knee to her hipbone, the tip of her finger tracing the knot of tissue as water sears down over her shoulder blades.

In this light, she can see it all; the jut of her hipbones, the cords of tendons in her arms, legs. Taking a breath under the water distends her ribcage and she can see… can feel every single-

Sara closes her eyes, breathes out, and holds it, turning her face to into the water so there is no way to tell if the sting in her eyes is from the temperature or from her own tears.

_Almost human…_

Forever changed.

And Ava-

 _Ava_.

Sara shakes her head.

Inhales.

Outside, waiting, is Ava.

Sara pictures her, exactly as she had been barely thirty minutes ago, standing awkwardly at the door with a perfectly folded pile of Sara’s old clothes, shifting on her feet.

_“I’ll be just outside, if you need me.”_

Sara braces herself against the shower wall with one hand. Follows with the second. She touches her forehead to the tiles and she is out of the spray; out of the heat. She turns to her right, eyes adjusting to the steam and they focus on the little collection of shampoo and bodywash she shared with Ava.

Shares.

_Shares._

With a shaking breath, Sara reaches for them.

\----


	6. Notturno

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sara's first night back on the waverider requires... tenderness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my little writers support team, how I do appreciate you. You know who you are xxx  
> T

“She’s not going to disappear into thin air, you know.”

A small smile lights up on Ava’s face, and she turns to find Constantine sauntering toward her, tie typically askew, one hand shoved into his trouser pocket and the other holding a plate of.. Ava squints.

Sandwiches?

What the-

“Our alien whisperer seems very convinced they won’t be able to try that again.”

Ava catalogues the plate for a moment, blows out a long breath, and nods.

“I know that.” She says. “it’s just-“

John shrugs one shoulder. “I get it, love.” He gesturing to the door to the bathroom with his chin. “How’s our girl doing?”

His phrasing doesn’t ruffle Ava like it might have in the past. John Constantine, with all of his surly bravado and poorly fitting shirts had become family to Ava as much as the other Legends.

Ava sighs, passes a weary hand across her face and presses her lips together a moment.

“I don’t know.” She answers, a little too honestly for her own liking. “It was… a messy arrival.”

“I heard.” John answers, with a smirk. “Some form asking your new assistant to sort it for you.”

She rolls her eyes. “He’s not-“ She stop

“I’m joking love. You know we drew straws for it. Happens he lost.” Ava raises a knowing eyebrow, and John shrugs, “Okay there _may_ have been some…interference. _But_ in my defence I don’t do so well with.. that sort of thing.” He grimaces.

Ava’s eyes widen in surprise. “ _John_ , you drank… Rasputin’s… God knows what-“ She gestures vaguely in front of her body with her right hand for emphasis, “-And you can’t handle-“

John’s finger flies up to silence her.

“Don’t say it.” He says, and shakes his head. “Even the word- _bleugh._ “ He makes a face. “-you know what? Here-“ John pushes the plate of sandwiches out towards Ava, jiggling it a little when she eyes it… much like it was a jar of Rasputin’s liquified entrails, as it happens.

John rolls his eyes and holds it out further.

“They’re for Sara.” At Ava’s look of confusion John sighs, steps forward so the edge of the plate is almost touching her sweater, “Peanut Butter.”

Ava slowly reaches up, and the second her fingers close around the clear carbon fibre (she had stopped thinking about the astronomical cost of the crockery some years ago… because ceramics and timeships don’t mix, apparently) John steps back, his own hand falling to his side.

“When Sara… got her soul back, she was…” He smacks his lips together, drops his eyes to the floor before looking up again. “Well let’s just say she wasn’t exactly, _herself_. A lot of things were… hard for her to get used to, again.”

_‘I’ve been gone so long,’_

The words ricochet painfully within Ava’s ribcage, and she finds herself holding in a breath, trapping them there.

_‘…and I don’t think I can do this, come back….without you.’_

“She tore through these like a banshee at a ball.”

“Huh-“ Ava blinks, and frowns down at the small triangles of bread which, indeed now that he pointed it out, were held together with peanut butter.

_He cut them into **triangles**?_

Before Ava can respond to the surprisingly thoughtful, entirely _un-_ Constantine gesture, the man in front of her shoves both hands into his pockets and shifts restlessly on his feet.

“Better keep moving.” He says. “Can’t keep our _interim_ captain waiting.”

“Interim-“ Ava swivels to follow when he breezes past her, striding toward the T-junction of the corridors.

“Not my words, love, not my words.” His voice travels disjointedly through the air as his footsteps fade.

Ava has precisely three seconds before the door to the bathroom suddenly opens, and she spins into a billow of steam, plate of sandwiches clutched to her body her free hand landing uselessly by her hip.

Sara.

Blonde hair hangs wet and tangled around her shoulders, grey sweatpants hang loosely off her frame, and a navy hoodie that threatens to swallow her whole. But she’s there. And she’s alive, standing awkwardly in front of Ava, towel and old clothes bundled in her arms, staring at the plate, and its contents….

“Is that-?” she asks, quietly.

Ava tears her eyes from Sara to glance down at the offering, as if making sure it hadn’t mutated into something more sinister in the past sixty seconds.

“Peanut butter.” Ava says, with an awkward shrug.

“How…how did you-?” Sara breathes, takes a step forward, tilting her head.

“John.” Ava answers. “He-“ she pauses, bites her lip. In her hand, the plate turns into a lump of lead. “-You should eat something-”

Sara huffs out a breath, and Ava can see how _small_ she is.

She looks up at Ava, catches Ava’s eye, and Ava _knows_.

“I’m not hungry.” She says.

Ava nods. Lowers her hand. Shifts so her body is between Sara’s eye line and the plate.

“Okay.”

The walk to their quarters is mostly silent. Sara yawns a total of three times, the first she attempts to hide, but by the third it’s so well within earshot Ava’s surprised the rest of the team doesn’t hear.

Ava’s kept her distance most of the way, giving Sara space as much as she can, but as they step over the threshold of their quarters, it’s instinct that lands Ava’s hand on the small of Sara’s back, guiding them both inside. Overcome with emotion wedged somewhere between sadness, fear and elation, Ava leaves Sara teetering at the entrance, places the plate of sandwiches on the small table in the corner, and turns back toward her.

Sara had once told Ava about fight or flight, and if ever there was a moment Ava understood this from another person, it would be now.

She links her fingers together in front of her body and takes a step forward.

“I know, this is a lot.” She says. “If there’s-“

Sara steps further inside before Ava can finish, glancing from corner to corner.

“It’s the same.” Sara’s voice is soft. “It’s exactly the same.”

“Of course, babe.” And Ava hears the catch in her own words as she answers. “You think I was going to rearrange our weapons closet without you?”

_You think I was going to do anything… without you?_

Sara is still for several moments, and Ava prepares herself for the possibility she will leave the room and find… somewhere else.

But Sara simply walks toward the bed, lowers her hand just enough to brush the surface of the duvet.

“I dreamed about this.” She says, her back towards Ava so her words are barely audible above the sound of the ship. “So many times.”

Ava watches Sara’s head drop, the hoodie bunching around her shoulders, sleeves sliding past her hands, engulfing her entire frame.

“Sara.” Ava whispers, her heart a single beat away from the lump in her throat.

Sara sinks wordlessly onto the bed, folding onto her side, her right hand by her head and her left sliding across the middle of the mattress until it is straight outward. She stills there, doesn’t try to move beneath the covers, and Ava doesn’t precisely know the right course of action, only for the one that tugs at her very bones, her very _being_.

Ava moves, slides into the space she’s always known, drawing her body along the mattress as near as she dares, gathers Sara’s hand in hers, pulling it close to her chest. There’s nowhere else the two of them touch; Ava’s too careful for that, but the enormity of the moment is enough to bridge any physical gap.

“Hi.” She whispers.

Sara’s gained a small amount of colour, and her hair has begun to dry, soft wisps shifting with the circulated air.

And Ava, Ava just looks into Sara’s eyes, trying not to be overwhelmed by the swell of emotion that threatens to spill over and through, as she finds herself once again at the mercy of the unique shade of blue that reminds her of shallow northern waters, cool and still, stretching out toward the deeper ocean.

 _God_ she had missed her eyes.

Ava watches the way Sara’s gaze skitters from her mouth, to her eyes, to her cheeks, to her hairline, ever staying long in any one place, but always on Ava’s face. She immerses herself in the wonder of watching Sara re-remembering their space, their world, _them_ …. And Ava’s fingers close more tightly around the hand in hers, thumb running gently across the ridges of knuckles, scars familiar and some new. Each breath is drawn painfully bittersweet, agony for everything they had missed, ecstasy to have it back.

So she fills the silence with stories; of Mick and Lita, of Astra’s unfortunate encounter with a 20th century priest in a small city called Adelaide, Australia, that required a good deal of temporal gymnastics and several different approaches to the Pope to keep the timeline on track. She tells Sara about Zari and John, about John’s new wildly popular Instagram channel and Gary’s total devastation at it all.

She tells Sara about Nate and Behrard. How they hadn’t been the same since Nate found out about Zari 1.0.

Then she tells her about Cruz. How they found her. How they fought for her. How they fought-

Fingertips, hesitant and gentle find her lips, and Ava stills, an apology chasing closely behind. But it is dissolved as quickly as a light snow in early winter, by Sara’s fingertips tracing the same path as her eyes had so many minutes ago. They follow the lines of Ava’s cheeks, along her jaw, to her temples and across her forehead. It’s beautiful, and excruciating, and Ava’s eyes flutter closed for the heartbeat it takes to already miss the sight of Sara, sold, whole and healthy in front of her, so she opens them again, a shimmer of tears in her vision, and smiles.

“Hey.”

And the eyes that look back at her ask her the question well before it comes, and it’s all Ava can do but to pull the hand in hers against her chest, over her heart.

“Am I dreaming?” Sara whispers.

Ava feels tears trickle silently across the bridge of her nose, past her left temple and down into the pillow beneath her head. She squeezes Sara’s hand once, pulls it carefully to her lips, kissing the scarred knuckles.

“No, baby.” She answers, unable to keep the wobble from her voice. “You’re home.”

Sara closes her eyes, draws in a breath, releasing it in a soft sigh. “Okay.” It’s quiet, and unsure, and Sara opens her eyes again, locking onto Ava’s as if there’s a chance she’s right. But Ava is still there, and she shifts a fraction closer to Sara, close enough their legs almost touch. Sara licks her lips, and nods against her pillow. “Okay.”

Ava watches Sara a moment, then presses her lips together and tilts her head away.

“Gideon.” She says, “Can you dim the lights-“ Sara’s hand digging into hers stops her, and Ava turns back to the brightness of Sara’s eyes, in silent question. Ava squeezes back, and nods. “Forget the lights.” She says, and this time doesn’t look away when she adds. “But… can you find some jazz instrumental. Low volume.”

“Of course, Captain.”

A mellow combination of saxophone, double bass and piano filters through the mechanical clicks and hums of the waverider until there is nothing else but the chords that remind Ava of the old bars in New Orleans. Sara still looks slightly unsure, so Ava squeezes Sara’s hand a second time, and smiles.

“It’s not free-form, I promise.”

The smile she receives in return is barely-there, and Ava can’t help but reach forward, tucking the stray strands of drying hair behind Sara’s ear, smoothing the flyaways above her forehead. Sara’s eyes flutter closed, only for a moment, but Ava counts it, and passes her fingertips back across Sara’s forehead a second time.

“Sorry… about the lights.” Sara says, and the words come out on an exhale as quietly as the flute in the backing track.

Ava shakes her head.

“Don’t apologise.” She answers, gently, this time carding back through Sara’s hair, nails scratching lightly at her scalp. Sara’s eyes slide closed again, and Ava feels the soft press of Sara’s foot against her shin. “We’ll get through this, I promise.”

Ava recalls at least a full track and several bars before Sara gasps and her eyes bounce open again, bleary and bloodshot. Her fingers curl around Ava’s hand and she can feel the nails digging into her skin, and her mouth moves in sequences of words unspoken, until she fixes on Ava’s face and her body slowly relaxes.

Ava only smiles, whispers words of comfort, and presence, continues stroking Sara’s forehead with her thumb, evenly and methodically in time with the bass, until Sara’s eyes spend more time closed than open and her body leans further inwards, _just_ far enough that Ava could shift only an inch or two, and Sara would be leaning onto her entirely.

…And if Ava does exactly that, three more tracks in when Sara’s finally succumbed to exhaustion, she would say the vice-like grip at the front of her sweater that Sara holds all night and well into the early hours of morning, is more than worth it.


	7. Somnus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the arms of the angels  
> May you find, some comfort here
> 
> \-- Sarah McLachlan

She doesn’t sleep. Not really.

She’s perpetually aware of the soft light behind her eyelids, the 1970s Mississippi jazz her soundtrack. She can’t remember a moment the hum of the waverider isn’t in her ear.

But there’s a heartbeat under her palm, and it isn’t hers.

And it’s warm.

 _She’s_ warm.

Perhaps for the first time in-

Her eyes crack open, and an expanse of colour is laid out before her. It’s unsettling at first, after all the concrete greys and tar-like blacks, and empty nothingness that threatened to freeze and then swallow her whole.

In front of her she finds the blue of a winter sky, light slate, a warm kind of orange from the light above their heads and the odd fleck of green, like the fresh spring lawn of her parent’s house, when she was a girl.

“Hi.”

The voice… its soft, familiar timbre pours like honey into Sara’s veins, and a breath immediately loosens in her chest, rising so fast it catches and forces her to swallow around a lump in her throat.

“Hey.”

It comes out as little more than a croak, and she licks her lips, wincing at the sting when her tongue finds all the tiny splits that months of recycled air and dehydration left behind.

But Ava… Ava is smiling at her like she had just hung the stars.

“Get any sleep?” She asks, and Sara knows from the purple-black that gathers in shadow beneath Ava’s eyes that she would already know the answer.

“A little.” She answers, anyway.

A pressure tightens at Sara’s hip, and it’s only then she realises Ava’s hand has been there the whole time, and the warmth radiating along her side and down her left leg is more than her body’s response to the room temperature.

“Liar.”

Sara blows out a breath in a half-chuckle, half-smile, and shifts her legs so they rest against Ava’s, still curled slightly forward on the bed; not enough to touch, but enough…

Enough.

Ava’s sleep-mussed, her hair loose and wild about her face, and Sara has _missed_ it.

Sara has missed her.

No-

 _No_.

She’s not a wordsmith, precision in vocabulary has never been her strong suit, but she knows _missing_ is the wrong word.

Missing is what happens when you leave for days, or weeks. Missing is when your fish dies and you stare at an empty tank for the months that follow. Sad, but capable of moving on with your life.

No.

Sara hasn’t missed Ava, she realises. Sara has _ached_ for her.

She presses her hand more firmly against Ava’s chest, until she can feel the individual cords of the poly-wool blend in Ava’s sweater, until her fingertips mark tiny divots in the material. Ava lies still, watching her, and Sara’s eyes slide closed at the strong rhythmic _thud.. thud_ beneath her palm. She can hear her own pulse where her ear meets her pillow and it’s just a fraction… just a few beats faster than Ava’s.

But if she slows her breathing… just a little…

The moment they fall into sync, a gentle calm washes over Sara, and the sheer effort it has taken to simply _exist_ for the past year melts away. Even if only a few moments, Sara’s weary heart is carried by Ava’s rhythm, and her broken body has help to heal.

Even if only a few moments, Ava fills every empty space Sara has ever had.

“Ava…”

Her own voice reaches her ears before she realises she’s spoken. It’s slurred, and a cadence lower than she’s used to, but the hand at her hip has shifted along the plane of her lower back, and it pulls warmth into her body in a way she has _missed-_

No-

 _Ached_ for.

She feels herself drawn forward, feels the dip of the mattress as Ava moves, her arm now circling Sara’s body, their legs slotting together like perfectly placed puzzle pieces, and Sara presses her hand a little further against Ava’s chest when Ava’s forehead touches hers, breathing in her words when she speaks.

“I’m here.”

Sara counts the beats, in time with her own.

Even if only a few moments…

Lips touch gently to her eyelids, left, then right,

Sara counts.

She counts, and breathes, and lets go.

"Sleep, love."


End file.
